Jayna's Unliteral Truth

[Jayna]

Hey little girl, you with the big appetite

The first time I saw you, naked, squalling
laid on my belly with your cord still pulsing
oh darling, I was overcome with your hunger
you bruised my nipple with your voracity
you knew what to do and you set out for it.
Oh god I loved you from your first stirrings
I loved your kick and I loved your anger
your lust for life, your outraged screaming
your slimy wet nuzzlings at my bosom!
They counted your fingers and exclaimed
at how long they were, how strong you were.
I knew your strength, I'd felt it for months
counting the jolts in my belly and smiling
at our own inner secret, our union, our bond
and you, here, finally outside me, covered
in blood and vernix and all I could think of
was how soft your skin was, how beautiful
your hair. Eleven hours of labor, nothing!
I could do it again, on my head, arms tied!
Your father wept, proudly; like a little girl
was how he described it, like his daughter.
And you, my darling, my pride, oblivious
to us and to all but your discomfort at this
sudden change of environment, you slid
into our world all purple and mad, full of
the rage of the newborn, perfectly righteous,
perfectly formed, perfectly loved, and all,
everything, was in an instant perfectly right.

[The Meromorph]

That was well crafted...
A little dense for my own taste, but it bore reading twice.
I'll come back to it another day,
And dance.

[Jayna]

Thank you! I was going through a dense phase at the time. My recent stuff has gotten sparer and sparer: I just wrote a series of 55, four stanzas each, four lines per stanza, very minimalist. If you have any interest, I can post a link to them.

[Jayna]

I don't want to eat,
I don't want a cigarette
or to drink myself drunk.
I want to scrutinize,
to touch with my eyes
his handsome face, the
shield which from behind
he refuses to pray.

He called me at three am
last night. I slept. The
pain in the message he left
woke me and kept me awake
from five to six. I digress.

I don't want to sleep. I
don't want to find comfort
in friends or tears.
I want to put my ear
to his tired chest and
hear the thud of life
unkilled, of continuing.
He steeps me in sorrow,
my eyes are dried for
his punishing nights.

If I can put my left
eye to his left eye,
I can be reassured
that he is still alive.

[Opsa]

OMG! I LOVE the birth poem! I think the denseness of it is perfect. that's the way it felt to me to be giving birth... it's months of waiting, and then a whole buncha sensations at once! Eleven hours is not enough to contain all the feelings, the noises, the anticipation, the thrill of -hey- it's happening at last- right now! Wow!

The second one is a fine piece, as well. A little more cryptic, though. I read it as being about one's mate- the dear stranger next to you in bed. It may not be about that, but that's what I read into it, not knowing for sure.

[Bluenose]

Very moving Jayna.  You have a nice touch.

[Jayna]

Thank you all!   

[Darlica]

You have a real gift for the written word Jayna!
These and the piece you wrote in Zan's pant's on fire thread are really good.

I have a history of depressions both being the one fighting the black dog and the one having to stand by watching a dear one fight for life or even worse, not fighting any more... You caught the feeling of the inadequateness one feel very well.

Birth I know nothing about, but I enjoyed the mix of joy and messiness. 

[Jayna]

Thank you so much, Darlica!

I've written hundreds of poems and essays and even wrote a book, once, which I hated so much I deleted most of it, but one of the few things I've written that I think I am going to continue to write is my 55 Laments. It's a long read but if you're interested, here it is:

http://sinmonkey.com/?q=node/52

[Darlica]

I've read it, the whole thing, it gripped me and didn't let go.

It is too raw and rough for some I reckon, but I liked it.

It is like a very condensed novel, every lament a chapter, where you have cut away all the unnecessary words, the fluffy filling that makes a story soft and fussy and nice and easy to swallow.
Your story isn't nice, and isn't meant to either as I take it, but it is captivating, sad and passionate.



 

[Jayna]

Thank you so much, both for reading it and for commenting! It was an agonizing process, both the living it and the writing it, and, as you said, not nice at all. But, in the end, the writing, which I commenced with the idea that I would stop when I was done, worked. The working title of the collection was "99 Laments for Grendelmouse", and I was so happy to stop at 55! There are a few poems left, but they're for other forms, and other collections. I have a scar on my right cheek from the night I finally got over him... a rite of passage, perhaps.

[Scriblerus the Philosophe]

Wow, Jayna. I only read a couple of these on PD but I clearly missed a lot! Very awesome and lovely descriptions. I can picture Grendlemouse quite well. Also that second one, right after the one about giving birth. Very visual.

[Jayna]

Thanks Scriblerus!

I've over 300 poems... maybe closer to 400 now... but it's hard for me to compile them in any way that makes sense, usually.